


Coming Home

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the got_exchange Kink Meme.</p>
<p>Prompt:  Beard porn. Canonically Asha prefers her men clean-shaven, so I guess Victarion must be doing something right to get away with the beard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

She lost her maidenhead to a Lyseni pirate who she’d encountered when the Sea Bitch was docked at some distant harbor, after a reaving, one of her first, and Asha had been filled with a cocky complaisance that had made seducing and bedding him, a boy barely into his manhood, easier than it should have been. She’d straddled his body, still clad in her boots and shirt, her breeches eased open to allow him access, and had fumbled absently with the soft nap of his cheek, so different from the men who she’d grown up with, rough, unshaven, pragmatic sorts with no patience for the flamboyance or adornments that the easterner affected. It had been much the same with Qarl, only their roles in the bedroom were reversed, but Asha had still taken the pleasure in the softness of his features, his cheek almost more a maiden’s than hers, roughened by the wind and the salty air. 

Her nuncle was another matter altogether. They met nights, sometimes, falling into each other as though they fought a war, his hands dwarfing hers as he grasped narrow wrists far too tightly, pinning her to the wall that they fucked against. His body was too broad, too big, too strong. His chest was as muscular as a bull’s, his legs able to restrain her as well as his arms. Everything about Victarion was roughness, brute force. His mouth was cruel as he forced a kiss upon her, as he bit at her collarbone, bruising and reddening her, as his beard scraped against the tender skin of her cheeks and chin, of her neck, so alien from what she’d known before. It was uncomfortable, certainly, but Asha didn’t mind, putting the slight discomfort aside as Victarion thrust against against her, ramming into her, one hand squeezing her thigh until her muscle almost spasmed, the other bracing himself against the hard stone wall that they stood against.

Asha took pleasure in the pain that sang in her muscles after they parted, both lying in a tangle, panting after their exertions. She said nothing, only watched his chest rise and fall until his breathing slowed, her hand ghosting upon it, trailing up to trace the line of his beard, damp with sweat.

“It’s like coming home,” she murmured, her voice harsh.


End file.
